Broken and Mended
by bunnster
Summary: Frustrated 16-year old Henry knows that being Prince of England isn't always what it's cut out to be. Charles, his favourite page, decides to help him out and get Henry what he wants. But things don't always go as planned... Set pre-show in 1507.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Broken And Mended

**Rating**: G for this chapter (T for some future chapters)

**Summary: **Set in 1507, pre-show: Frustrated 16-year old Henry knows that being Prince of England isn't always what it's cut out to be. Charles, his favourite page, decides to help him out and get Henry what he wants. But things don't always go as planned...

**Main characters: **Teenage Henry Tudor, teenage Charles Brandon  
**Secondary characters: **King Henry VII., Catherine of Aragon, William Compton, Anthony Knivert, Jane Popincourt, Princess Mary, Thomas Brandon.

**Author's Notes: **I have taken a lot of liberties with Charles here. I know historically he was about 6 years older than Henry, but I've deliberately made them the same age in this story, because I always felt they were portrayed like that in the show and... because I wanted to. :P On the other hand I have gone with history and not the show in the case of Henry's sister. She's Mary here, not Margaret. Mary's attendant Jane Popincourt was a real person, rumoured to have had an affair with Henry in 1514 and so known for being loose that the French king refused to have her come to his court. Finally I hope no one is confused that Henry is called Harry in this quite often. He was commonly called that in his youth to distinguish him from his father.

* * *

**Broken And Mended**

**Chapter 1**

From up on the gallery, hidden behind a heavy curtain, the king watched his son wrestle. Harry's group of companions was gathered around him, standing in a semi circle in the hall, cheering and yelling excitedly as their young master was locked in a furious battle of wills with another boy.  
"Come on Harry!" a red-haired youth cried and the prince, spurred on and muscles straining, doubled his efforts to throw his opponent to the floor, an excited cry coming from his throat. He wasn't fully grown into his body yet, his limbs sometimes gangly like that of a young colt and his face still round and sweet as a girl's. But he was a fine youth and the king could already see the man his son would soon become. He smiled, full of pride for the boy's strength, his health and lively spirit.  
Yet his pride was hampered, because at the same time this glowing health and over-bounding energy often frightened him for the boy's life. Harry had been rambunctious even as a small child and now that he had grown into a vigorous, able-bodied teen he loved nothing better than to test his strength with others, clamouring for the manly glory of winning at the joust and all the other various sports young men took part in. But those were dangerous activities for the king's sole surviving son and heir. Too dangerous.  
"Throw him down, Harry!" the red-haired boy yelled again and his son gave an almighty cry and almost threw the other boy to the floor. At the last moment he caught his footing and brought some distance between them, then they immediately threw themselves at each other again and the other boy was grappling for purchase around Harry's waist, trying to push him off balance, the same determined look to win on his face as the prince. It was William Brandon's son, Charles, he saw now, one of Harry's favourite pages, the one it seemed he kept around him day and night. The two boys were about the same strength, the muscles in their slim young bodies straining with effort, but neither boy gave the other even an inch to gain, fighting with everything they had as only teen-aged boys could.  
Still, neither of them gained any ground for some time and as often happened lately the king's mind drifted off to dark brooding. Seven children his wife had borne him, he thought, and that should have been enough, but now she was dead and he was old and he had only this single son left and two daughters. His eldest girl had been gone and married these past 5 years and he doubted he would ever see her again and his beautiful little Mary would go the same way as her sister in a few years and be comfort to him no more. He had just concluded the negotiations for her betrothal.  
But this boy, his second son, was his to keep. And he would not bear to lose him, like he had lost his eldest. Oh, he had cried too when the others, the little ones had died, his darling girls and the rosy-cheeked boy he'd thought would grow into a strong Duke of Somerset. But that had been nothing compared to the pain at the death of Arthur, his first-born, his pride. His death had broken him, changed him in very profound ways, he knew that, and ever since, he was so fearful of anything happening to Harry too, that it sometimes threatened to choke him. In the months before his 16th birthday he had even repeatedly woken in a cold sweat, a scream on his lips, thinking that Harry had suddenly died just as Arthur had, cold and dead in the ground at 15, never even to see his 16th year.  
The boy was in robust health though, as always. And nothing had happened to him. But still... the fear would not go away. And now Harry wanted to joust and hunt as the other boys his age did, as the king himself had done at that age. But he would never allow that. He could not bear to let him participate in such dangerous sports. He was too precious for this kingdom to lose. He was too precious to _him_. Harry greatly chafed at the restrictions he put on him though and there were ever more fights between them over it, which wearied and saddened him and he suspected that the boy thought his old man was keeping him away from his fun out of simple maliciousness. Quite often he felt bad over for it.  
A few months ago in a fit of guilt he had presented him with a fine stallion for his birthday just to see him smile at him for once. It had been but a fleeting pleasure. He regretted the present now, for Harry had ever since not ceased to beg him for permission to joust in the upcoming May jousts with his new prize. Overwhelming fear for his son's life chased away any guilt every time he even thought about such a thing as letting him joust among the rugged war-hardy men that frequented the tournaments. He was determined not to relent and to sit his son out until the May jousts were over even if he grew completely grey-haired in the process. It was becoming a greater strain every day to resist his son's dogged demands and frustrated accusations though!  
"Throw him down, Harry!"  
He was distracted from his thoughts by a sudden yelling and cheering erupting amongst the boys down in the hall. The prince's youthful eagerness to win finally had prevailed and he looked just in time to see Harry gain the upper hand over his opponent and force Charles Brandon to the floor in a smooth, rather genius wrestling move. For a short, stunned moment he lay on top of his friend, breathing heavily, sweat running down his bare back. Then the other boy stopped struggling, realising his defeat and Harry rose, victorious, throwing his arms in the air, shouting out his victory and glowing with glee. The other boys ran up to him grinning and clapping him on the back cheering loudly.  
To the king's soul it was like balm to see his son so happy and without that indignant frown marring his face which he so often directed at him these days. If he had to sneak behind curtains like a beggar to see it, then so be it.  
_Let the boy have his small victories at least_, he thought. _And me an old man's indulgence._  
He smiled and left, unseen.

* * *

"What was that about, William!" Charles exclaimed indignantly and punched the red-haired boy's shoulder hard as they walked out of the hall into the courtyard after their wrestling, returning to the prince's chambers.  
"_Throw him down, Harry, throw him down! _I thought you were on my side!"  
Henry, who was walking a little ahead, turned and laughed. "He just knows which horse to bet on, Charles. Face it, I'm better than you!"  
"He is." William said with a comically fake apologetic expression on his face, but yelped a moment later when Charles pulled him into a headlock. "I'm still better than _you_." he said, not really angry but conscious of saving the remains of his bruised pride in front of the other boys after he had lost the wrestling match.  
William snorted as best he could in his position then punched him in the stomach in retribution and an impromptu wrestling match in the middle of the courtyard started. Amused, Henry stopped.  
"Oh, leave him alone Charles, he's just telling the truth." He teased, shaking his head but he had no intention of breaking up their little fight and when all of the other boys gathered around them to watch, too, he started bets on the winner.  
"Exactly…" William choked. "You are… such a… sore loser!"  
"I'm not a-" Charles started but the fight was suddenly cut short, because Anthony Knivert's excited exclamation made everyone pause.  
"Look, boys!" he hissed. "There is Lady Catherine with her ladies!" Charles and William let go of each other immediately and everyone else turned too. At the other end of the courtyard Lady Catherine was leaving the chapel, a train of young girls, her attendants, following her. It was such a rare sight, that they all stood rooted to the spot and stared open-mouthed, drinking in the appearance of the girls.  
"She is looking even more beautiful than the last time I saw her," William muttered.  
"How can you even tell from such a distance? Or have you had a chance for closer inspection?" Charles whispered sarcastically and a moment later all the boys were whispering lewd jokes to each other.  
At that moment one of the girls noticed them too and pointed and they all stopped and did much the same as the boys had done, first staring, then excitedly whispering and giggling among themselves.  
Only Catherine took no part in her maid's chattering, instead she silently looked at Henry, who ignored his companion's jokes and bragging as well and returned her gaze with the same intensity. Both of them were uncertain what to do now. Neither of them made a move to approach the other yet neither made a move to leave either and after a short moment all of the girls and boys fell silent again and waited to see what their master and mistress would do now. When it became apparent that neither of them knew what to do and the mood grew awkward Henry suddenly was the first to think of something and made a sweeping chivalrous bow to Catherine. After a fashion all the boys followed suit. Catherine smiled brightly and returned Henry's greeting with a deep elegant Spanish curtsey, her hair gleaming in the sun as she bowed her head to him and Henry's face lit up.  
"Why don't you go and talk to her, you are technically married to her!" Charles urged him quietly, breaking the silence. Like all the other boys he wanted a chance to talk to her maids-of-honour.  
"I-" Henry looked at him, seemed to consider it for a moment, yet hesitated. They all knew he fancied Catherine and actually had done so since before she had married Prince Arthur and then been widowed by him and the king had betrothed her to Henry instead.  
"Come on, use the chance! Two fiancés talking to each other on a lovely morning in the courtyard with servants present isn't unusual." Charles wheedled, among agreeing murmurs from the other boys.  
But things where more complicated than that and they all knew it. Catherine's father still had not paid the second half of her dowry and in turn Henry's father had not fulfilled his promise of Henry marrying her when he turned fourteen. Henry had already turned sixteen now, there had been no marriage and the king purposely prevented any contact between them that was away from his watchful eye. They were pawns in their father's hands and Henry might get in trouble with the king if he even talked to her now in an unscheduled meeting.  
"It's perfectly modest." Anthony reasoned. "It's not like you are secretly visiting her bed-chamber at night or something!" The boys snickered at that, but Henry's eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. He was just about to speak some angry words to Anthony, when suddenly Catherine seemed to come to a decision, bunching the green taffeta of her strange Spanish dress up in her hands and starting towards them, a look of modest shyness on her face that nonetheless showed some steel beneath it.  
"Oh yes!" Charles whispered, grinning, and William suppressed an excited laugh.  
Henry's face took on a pleased and hopeful expression and he immediately moved to meet her halfway. The other boys stared in eager anticipation at the girls, who were obviously debating if they should follow their mistress, then-  
"Por dios! Qué es estos?"  
Everyone started, as a shrill voice echoed through the courtyard, indignantly exclaiming a stream of words in Spanish. Feeling caught, they all turned to see Dona Elvira, Catherine's governess appear from the chapel, her black dress dragging through the mud as she virtually ran across the courtyard, angrily gesturing and ranting.  
Dona Elvira crossed the courtyard surprisingly quickly for a wrinkly, little old woman and grabbed Catherine by the arm none too gently. She gave Henry a perfunctory curtsey and an accompanying glare and before they knew what had happened she had bustled Catherine and her maids through the nearest door into the palace. Before she was pushed inside, Catherine's eyes sought out Henry, an expression of longing and regret in them, then she was gone.  
"Damn!" Anthony exclaimed and a collective breath of disappointment went through the group of boys.  
"What did she do that for?" William said, "She behaved as if she had caught her in bed with Harry not trying to _talk_ to him in the courtyard." That elicited snickers of dirty laughter among the boys and Henry angrily blushed a little, but pretended to still stare at the door through which Catherine had disappeared.  
"Such a pity, did you see that pretty dark-haired maid, the one in the red dress? Man, I'd like to _talk_ to _her_." Anthony said with a leer.  
William laughed. "Get in line behind me then, I got her to give me some of her womanly favours in a quiet corner off the hall last month, she knows a real gentleman when she sees one! You better stay with that milkmaid I saw you kissing last week."  
Anthony hissed in indignation. "You promised me not to tell anyone!" Everyone laughed at him, except Henry who was listening with his back still turned towards them. Embarrassed Anthony turned to him to try and quickly change the topic. He punching Henry's shoulder and said. "Hey, Harry, _you_ should try arranging a private _talk_ with Lady Catherine!"  
But Henry was far from amused. He suddenly turned on Anthony with such a dark, furious look on his face that Anthony shrank back even before Henry roughly pushed him in the chest, making him stumble backwards.  
"And _you_ should watch your tongue, Master Knivert!" he hissed, virtually vibrating with rage and slapped him hard across the face. The other boys quickly fell silent and averted their eyes as Anthony stammered.  
"I- it was just a joke...," but that seemed to enrage Henry even more.  
"A joke." he said dangerously. "You think this is funny, Anthony?"  
Anthony just stared at him like a rabbit facing a snake, completely taken aback by Henry's unexpected violent outburst.  
"No, your Grace, I-"  
"How dare you even speak of such things in my presence!" he said, raising his hand to slap him again but just then Charles and William stepped in and held him back.  
"He didn't mean any harm." William said into his ear.  
"Let go of me!" Henry hissed, his jaw clenching and struggling to get rid of them. They didn't budge however and Henry, breathing hard was left to just glare at Anthony. He stopped struggling and a long tense moment followed, every eyes on Henry then Charles suddenly spoke up.  
"Why don't we go for a ride after supper, Henry?" he said into the stunned silence. "Can I ride your new horse?"  
Henry blinked and looked at him, incredulous. "What? No."  
"No to the ride or no to me riding your horse?" Charles asked, keeping the out-of-place conversation up without even blinking.  
"No to the horse!" Henry roared and finally managed to shake both Charles and William off. "I said, let go of me!"he reiterated, but everyone could see he had already calmed down a bit.  
"Oh come on, just one time!" Charles begged, reaching for his arm again. "Don't you love me?" Henry just stared at him, then he suddenly shook his head and started laughing.  
Charles and everyone else joined in in relief and even though it sounded a little strained, they knew the prince's temper tantrum was over, when he let Charles put an arm round his shoulder and lead him towards the door to the palace.  
"Give it up, Charles, my father won't even let _me_ ride my horse, why would I let _you_ have it?" Henry's muttered words echoed in the courtyard.  
"He let's you ride it every time you want, just not in a joust." Charles countered and looked over his shoulder at Anthony, winking as he steered Henry towards his chambers.  
They disappeared inside the palace and most of the boys slowly followed, except for William and Anthony.  
"What in God's name got up _his_ royal butt?" Anthony whispered to William, holding his red cheek.  
William shrugged. "No idea."  
But Anthony saw him avoiding his eyes and said suspiciously. "You know, sometimes I think you and Charles know something I don't..."

* * *

After supper everything was back to normal again and as Charles had suggested they went for a ride in the extensive deer park near the palace to blow off some steam, racing each others horses for fun. Henry's birthday stallion won as he had done every time so far and Charles was rebuffed again when he asked to ride the beautiful animal. Henry who normally gave freely and generously of everything he had to those he liked seemed to feel he did not fully possess that horse until he had ridden it in a joust and he didn't want to let anyone else have it before that. So Charles gave up for the time being.

* * *

Later at night when Henry was lying in bed he started to brood however, thoughtfully twisting a ring on his finger. It was new, a gift Catherine had sent him when he had returned from his ride. A precious thing with a small diamond set in gold, that glittered in the candlelight. The pretty girl in the red dress had slipped it to William during evening mass. It was far from the first gift Catherine had sent him and while such tokens pleased him in some ways, they mostly only served to aggravate his frustration with his father.  
"Do you think he really... slept with that girl, Charles?" he suddenly asked. Charles, who was attending on him tonight, paused midway in stretching up from his pallet beside the prince's bed to snuff out the last candle on the night-stand.  
"Who?" he yawned, confused, his face illuminated in the light of the flame.  
"William."  
Charles's face instantly took on a more awake expression and he grinned slowly. "Maybe. But I don't think so. _I've_ tried and she wouldn't budge." He laughed a little, then moved again to snuff out the candle, but Henry stopped him.  
"No, not yet."  
"Al right," Charles said curiously and settled himself comfortably on his pallet, almost disappearing into the shadows when he left the circle of light from the candle. He could tell that Henry was in one of his moods and wanted to talk and that meant he probably wouldn't get to sleep any time soon. He didn't mind though, because he enjoyed their late night talks.  
"So you think William was just bragging?" Henry asked with pretended lightness, looking down at his ring, as if he wasn't really interested in the answer.  
Charles snorted. "Of course. He's hiding behind bushes with milkmaids and servant wenches as everyone else is. None of Catherine's ladies will do anything more than flirt." That stupid governess Dona Elvira made sure of that. And because since the queen's death the king had not remarried, there were barely any other women at court, unless one counted the ladies of Henry's young sister Mary. But that was dangerous territory with the king's mother around to chaperone them.  
"Hmm," Henry replied, still twisting the ring and not looking at Charles.  
"It's a really nice gift, that ring." Charles offered.  
Henry looked up and snorted. "For all the good it does me!"  
He left the ring alone suddenly, groaned and threw himself back into his pillows with force, staring at the canopy. "I hate this! I can't even talk to her. I wish her father would just pay that other half of the dowry or my father would forget about money for a second and just let me marry her."  
He beat the pillow at his side repeatedly in frustration. Charles didn't know what to say, because there wasn't really anything new to say about it and he had heard this complaint many times before, but luckily Henry didn't dwell on his frustrated amorous ambitions and went right onto another grievance.  
"And to make my life worse, I'll have to leave with the king for Westminster the day after tomorrow. He wants me to attend parliament with him again." He turned his head to Charles, an angry pout on his face and Charles's only thought was: _Oh no!_ Not so much out of pity for Henry but for himself. He groaned, perhaps a little too loud, because Henry suddenly laughed and said into the half-dark: "I don't even have to see your face to know what's on it right now." He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at him. "I don't know what _you_ have to complain about! You aren't the one getting a lesson in statesmanship!"  
He grabbed a pillow and with a grin quickly brought it down on Charles' head. Charles's gave a surprised yelp when it hit him and Henry chuckled. But Charles quickly retaliated and and threw it back and Henry wasn't quick enough to duck so it hit him right in the face. Charles crowed in triumph.  
"You aren't the one who has to stand in the same spot for hours!" he said, shuddering at the memory of the last time the king had taken Henry with him to parliament. "You get a seat at least!"  
Henry grunted indignantly as he peeled the pillow from his face, then hurled it at Charles's head again, but he missed and it hit Charles's chest instead.  
"You don't have to pay attention to anything that's being said or done at least! _I_ get grilled by my father with questions about everything that happened afterwards! He wants me to watch fifty people at once! _Did you see that earl there? What do you think he intended?",_ he aped the king. "_Be careful of that one, he just wants to slip out of my grip and make so-and-so king instead_. "  
His face contorted in the same pinched expression the king often wore and Charles broke into sudden laughter at Henry's rather accurate impersonation of his father's nasal, heavily-breathing way of speaking, even forgetting to throw back the pillow. Henry joined in after a moment until they were holding their sides with laughter.  
It took a few minutes before they calmed down, conscious of the fact that the person who was the butt of their joke might hear them. Ever since prince Arthur had died the king had his chambers right next to Henry's with a door connecting them so that it was impossible for anyone to come into the prince's rooms without going through the king's first or for Henry to leave without the king noticing. The walls were thick but sounds still carried through the door sometimes.  
"Do I have to-" Charles finally asked more seriously, but Henry cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask.  
"No, don't worry, I won't be taking _you_ along again." Charles didn't bother to hide his sigh of relief this time. He had really started to dread that he was going to have to go along to this parliament session. "Not after what happened last time! I'll take William with me. At least he won't fall asleep standing up when I want him to fetch me a drink!"  
Charles blushed a little and smoothed down his pillow-tousled hair in embarrassment. "Will you ever let me live that one down?"  
"No." Henry laughed.  
"I really don't know how you can stand those boring old men droning on and on and talking about such tedious stuff for hours without falling asleep," he mumbled. "I can't."  
"That must be why God has made _me_ Prince of England and _you_ only the son of a knight." Henry said a little haughtily. "He must have thought you would not need the ability to withstand boring talk, which shall be your only excuse for falling asleep." He grinned and since the pillow was out of his reach he accompanied his last words by a playful smack to Charles's head with his hand instead.  
"Ouch!" Charles exclaimed indignantly.  
"Don't be such a girl." Henry gave back, smirking.  
"Don't smack me with that ring on your finger!" Charles said, glaring. He gingerly felt the back of his head to see if the diamond had cut him and Henry sheepishly looked at Catherine's ring.  
"Oh. I forgot I had that on."  
There was a moment of silence in which Henry pointedly did not apologize and Charles made sure his head was fine, then he looked at Henry mischievously. "Or is that your way of making me share in the pain of your unfulfilled love?" he asked teasingly.  
He could immediately see that he had hit the wrong note with that joke, because Henry scowled at him, grabbed his pillow from the pallet and angrily lay down, turning his back on him. For a short moment there was the same rage in his eyes as this morning with Anthony, before it simmered down to a mere scowl. He half expected to be told to blow out the candle now but Henry remained silent, ignoring him.  
Charles sighed. Most of the other boys didn't know it, but... Henry had never lain with a girl.  
The king's refusal to let the prince do any of the sports they liked to indulge in was becoming ever more grating for him and this particular kind of "sport" was an especially delicate matter and sore spot for him. Charles knew he hated that he could never join in on any talk about girls because he had no experience in the matter. Anthony had unknowingly stepped into dangerous territory this morning, but Charles knew better and it had been stupid and mean to tease him about Catherine, he thought.  
Henry usually tried to paper over the cracks whenever talk of girls came up, yet Charles could see very well how humiliating it was for him that he was the only one of his companions who hadn't had a girl yet... and he pitied him for it.  
The king was controlling everything in Henry's life and ruined for him all of the things that were the most fun – sports and girls. He'd never have a chance to have a girl like that.  
But Charles suddenly felt determined to tip the scales of those he moved closer to the bed, where Henry was lying with his jaw clenched, crossly staring at the canopy. He crossed his arms on the rich bedding and rested his chin on them, then poked Henry's arm. Henry turned his head, glaring at him.  
"I can get you one, you know," Charles said in a cajoling half-whisper, a conspirative twinkle in his eye.  
"Get me what?" Henry asked testily.  
Charles hesitated just a little before his next words. "A girl."  
For a moment Henry froze, a mixture of surprise and blushing embarrassment on his face. They had never openly talked about the fact that he envied the other boys for their experience with girls. But Charles looked back at him earnestly and after a moment he relaxed.  
"How?" he asked, tentatively.  
Charles allowed himself a small self-satisfied grin.  
"You know Jane Popincourt, right?"  
"Yes." Henry's eyes sparkled with interest immediately, a slow grin spreading on his face and Charles had to suppress a chuckle.  
"Well... I think I can arrange a meeting. She likes you." Charles whispered. Jane was very pretty, a lady to Henry's sister Mary and not much older than they were.  
Henry moved closer to him on the bed, their faces only inches apart.  
"But my father... and my grandmother! She is always watching my sister and her maids like a hawk. How could I meet her... alone?" he whispered. They were whispering now suddenly, maybe afraid someone could hear the forbidden things they were talking about, maybe a little awed by their daring.  
"I know." Charles replied, starting to feel a little nervous about it. If they were caught they would be in big trouble. "But tomorrow your grandmother will leave for Dorset, remember?"  
"Yes! I'd forgotten." Henry chuckled. "Mary was so excited about it." And she wasn't the only one. All of the girls in princess Mary's household were eagerly looking forward to running a little wild while she was away. Henry laughed in delight now and Charles knew his idea had fallen on grateful ears. Charles was thinking it through quickly. "After your lessons tomorrow, instead of going back to your chambers say you want to take some air in the gardens and then go to the laundry house instead. I know a quiet little closet there." Charles had bedded there more than one of the girls from the nearby village that the laundress always hired to help on laundry day… He winked and Henry blushed at first but then a huge smile spread on his lips and Charles smiled back, happy that he had made Henry happy.  
"Ha! And father would have me cloistered up until my wedding day!" Henry said. They grinned at each other, snickering in the dark and whispering about it for some time more, making plans. When they had talked it through to exhaustion and it was long past midnight they were finally too sleepy to stay up any longer.  
Charles moved to blow out the candle on the night-stand but Henry suddenly caught his wrist.  
"Are you sure you can do it?" he whispered, his voice sounding a little anxious and afraid his chance could still be snatched from him.  
"Of course I can." Charles whispered back smugly. He paused, then raised his eyebrows and added cheekily. "Do you love me enough now to let me ride your horse?"  
Henry was surprised at first, then chuckled breathlessly. "If you can arrange this I will love you forever!" he said and rolled his eyes. "Al right. You can ride him."  
"Yes!" Charles exclaimed in excitement.  
"But for one ride only!" Henry added quickly.  
"Al right, alight!" Charles said and then they were shaking hands as earnestly as if they had just made an important peace treaty.  
It was a deal. A girl for a horse.

* * *

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter summary: **Henry and Charles set their plan in motion, but first they need to overcome a few obstacles...

**Rating: M** (for this chapter)

* * *

**Broken And Mended**

**Chapter 2**

The clock inside was ticking loudly. Charles could hear it even outside the door where he stood waiting for Henry's lessons to be over. He was used to standing here, he had done it almost every day since he had first come into Henry's household as a small boy, waiting for him so they could go and play. But time seemed to be stretching as slowly as too thick honey on a spoon today and he blew out air between his lips, tapping his foot. He was a little nervous he had to admit but he willed himself to be calm and nonchalantly stuffed his hands into his pockets, leaning against the wall. Everything had gone as planned so far, there was nothing to be nervous about. He had even laughed at Henry's edgy excitement this morning and chuckled at the memory.

"_Not that one!" Henry said with a displeased frown, standing in his underwear in his bed-chamber and perusing the choice of clothing the Yeoman of the Wardrobe had brought him. Charles saw the man hide his annoyance with the prince's choosiness behind a strained smile. "Perhaps this one, Your Grace?" he said, pointing to a red-and-gold velvet hose and doublet in puzzled desperation. Henry had rejected three pieces of clothing already and had made him fetch more from downstairs when he normally barely even looked at what he was wearing and the yeomen just couldn't understand what was so different this morning. Neither could the confused grooms and esquires standing around who were supposed to dress him once he had made his choice. Surely the prince wasn't that picky because he wanted to look his best in front of his grandmother? Henry looked at the red-and-gold clothing, then threw Charles a helpless look. What would Jane like?, his eyes seemed to say and Charles took pity on the poor yeomen and leaned forward and whispered into Henry's ear, just low enough that the others wouldn't hear "Just wear something that's easy to remove later." _  
_Henry jerked back from him, blushing furiously and shot him an indignant look. Charles had to fight hard to suppress the laugh bubbling up inside him, while the other servants pretended not to have seen the prince's embarrassment and as usual also hid their annoyance that he was confiding in Charles instead of them, even though they were higher ranking. _  
"_That green one!" Henry finally barked, still red in the face and this time a little snort did escape Charles's lips, because the green one was indeed the garment most easily removed among all of the clothes. After that Henry was quickly dressed to the relief of everyone and Charles and most of his household accompanied him to the Great Hall, where the king's and princess Mary's household were gathered already to see Lady Margaret Beaufort, Henry's grandmother off, before she left to inspect the Grammar School she had founded in Dorset. Sometimes that woman's bookishness had good sides, Charles thought wryly. _  
_The king put great stock in privacy so while the royal family said their farewell, the servants stood in respectful distance, present to honour his mother but too far away to overhear any of their talk. Charles quickly positioned himself to stand beside the girls of princess Mary's household and managed to get the place right beside Jane. She looked at him coquettishly, having expected him to seek her out. _  
"_Master Brandon," she whispered in her alluring French accent, a small smile playing on her lips. She was a very attractive girl, with a perfect rosebud mouth and fascinating dark eyes and hair, a maid-of-honour to the princess... though not actually so much a maid any more as Charles knew intimately. Not that Henry needed to know that. He had a feeling he wouldn't like it that Charles had had her before him. She had come to the English court to teach the princess Mary French but instead of learning that language from her the princess had succeeded in quickly teaching her English. Jane brushed his hand surreptitiously and he shuddered lustily as she whispered. "Meet me in the laundry house later?" _  
_Charles was stupid with desire for a moment and almost replied with a quick 'yes' before he remembered he had promised Henry to arrange a meeting with her. He groaned at the realisation that he would not get to enjoy her charms today even though certain parts of his body had already taken a lively interest in her. Colour rising to his face, he shifted his livery clothing a little to hide it and took a deep, calming breath. Jane's lips curled in a knowing little smile, yet when he moved his head closer to her again and whispered, "No, but my master wants to meet you." she raised her eyebrows in surprise, a silent question in her eyes. Charles gave a slight nod and her gaze searched out the prince standing with his family and appraised him for a good long while as if she had not seen him up close before. She knew what he looked like well enough, because whenever Henry spent time with his sister to play cards or dance with her, Jane was with her young mistress. Since Charles, like her, was with Henry almost all of these times he had seen the furtively appreciative looks Henry always cast her way. Perhaps she had seen them too, in any case she seemed to like what she saw. Without looking at him again, she nodded her pretty head and whispered "Bien. Five of the clock, our usual place." _

It was half past four now but Henry still wasn't done with his lessons! The waiting was starting to make Charles quite edgy and he sighed loudly into the quiet hall, scuffing his heel over the polished wooden floor. Henry should have been done with his lessons already but he sometimes spent ages in there not because he had to but because he wanted to. He actually seemed to like all that Latin stuff and prose and whatnot he had to learn. But surely today he would have other things in mind and it was his tutor who kept him up!  
Charles started when the door was suddenly ripped open and Henry's tutor Master Hone appeared, looking a little disgruntled. As usual his eyes swept over Charles without comment or greeting, as he seemed to be part of the furniture or tapestries to the often distracted, little man, instead he turned to Henry who had followed him out with a fake innocent expression on his face.  
"My lord prince," he said, in his tremulous voice, yet with a hint of admonishment in it. "I do hope your walk in the gardens will do Your Grace good indeed and you will be able to concentrate better tomorrow." With these words he bowed to his pupil and left, carrying a stack of books under his arm. Henry's eyes found Charles's and he grinned, suppressing a laugh until Master Hone was out of earshot.  
"He just couldn't understand why I didn't want to finish reading his new Latin translation," he snorted, when Master Hone had safely rounded the corner. "I had to fake a headache."  
He shoved his own books into Charles's hands as he always did and laughed a little, yet it was nervous laughter and his eyes strayed up and down the corridor fearful anyone would come.  
Charles grinned. "Don't worry, no one is here. And you are just in time." Henry nodded jerkily and wiped his sweaty hands on his clothes. "Shall we go right now then?" he said in a low voice  
Charles nodded and winked. "Let's take some air to cure your headache."  
They went down the corridor that led into the palace's garden, Henry eagerly leading the way, but they had barely rounded the corner from the schoolroom when a sudden voice from behind called.  
"Master Brandon!"  
Charles turned in a panic to see the king of all people round the corner. Of course he sometimes came to the schoolroom to talk to Master Hone or to Henry about his studying progress... but did he have to choose today of all days for that? Charles helplessly turned his head to look at Henry, but suddenly Henry was gone! Instead the tapestry on his left was swinging a little and the tip of a shoe looked out underneath.  
The king laboriously walked up to him, his emaciated face showing a frown and Charles, his heart pounding furiously, bowed to him hastily.  
"Your Majesty," he said.  
"Is the prince done with his lessons already?" The king came closer and raised questioning eyebrows at him and the books in his hands.  
Charles swallowed a lump in his throat and stammered out: "Y... yes, Your Majesty." He was going to see Henry's foot at any moment! He had to force himself not to stare at the shoe and alert his attention to it.  
The king frowned even deeper. "Then where is he? I did not see him on my way here."  
Sweat broke out on Charles's forehead as the king now stood dangerously close to the place where Henry was hiding, almost brushing the tapestry, that was bulging a little. Henry was slight but not quite slight enough. If the king moved his head just a little bit he would see it.  
"He... he said he had a headache and went for a walk in the gardens," he lied in a rush, hoping to God the king wouldn't notice the shoe right next to his own foot.  
"A headache!" the king exclaimed, concern in his voice and to Charles's immense relief immediately walked over to the window on the other side of the corridor to look down into the gardens to spy his sick son. Who was of course not there but a mere three arms length from him away and entirely free of life-threatening headaches. Charles used the chance to step in front of Henry's hiding place and the traitorous shoe just before the king turned around again.  
"I don't see him. Did he go alone?"  
"I think so, Your Majesty," Charles replied, thankful for the fact that he wasn't supposed to look the king in the eye and so had an excuse to keep his eyes lowered while he lied him right in the face. "And it was just a little headache from reading too much, nothing serious," he added. Knowing the king he would call for a physician in a heartbeat otherwise.  
The king coughed a little in displeasure. "Well if that is so, go and tell him I want to speak with him when he returns."  
"Yes, Your Majesty." Charles replied and bowed, then shuffled on the spot. The king looked at him, expecting him to run and obey him immediately but Charles remained standing there. If he moved now the king would surely notice Henry behind the tapestry.  
"What are you waiting for, boy?" the king asked.  
Charles swallowed. "I...beg Your Majesty's pardon but the prince said not to disturb him." It was the first thing that came to his mind and he could virtually hear Henry groaning behind the tapestry, because that sounded a bit suspicious even to himself. The king remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, perusing him sternly and the books almost fell from Charles's slippery hands as he started sweating even more. He always had the feeling the king could see his innermost thoughts. He was going to see through him any second now and discover Henry. Then Henry would probably be locked up for a week and he'd get a whipping for lying to the king.  
"What's wrong with you, boy? You look a little pale and sick," the king said suddenly and raised a cold hand to Charles's chin to look at him more closely.  
"Umm..." was all Charles could say to that as the king inspected his face for signs of sickness.  
"Mayhaps you sh-"  
"Your Majesty!"  
They turned to see the king's groom Hugh Denys round the corner. "Your Majesty, your treasurer has arrived now and is waiting for his audience."  
The king let go of Charles, who felt his knees weaken in relief. "Oh well, then I will have to talk to him without the prince, it seems." He turned to Charles. "Go and lie down, boy, you don't look well."  
With that he quickly left, Hugh Denys in tow and as soon as they had rounded the corner, Charles allowed himself the shaky breath of relief that had wanted to escape him and sagged against the bulge in the tapestry, which muttered. "Whew, if that wasn't a double escape! As if I want to be present while he and the treasurer go over the account books and count sacks of gold coins..."

* * *

When they were sure they were safely alone and no one would come they quickly ran down to the gardens and disappeared among the rows of thick hedges and flowerbeds, laughing in relief. Luckily there was a way to the laundry house from the edge of the gardens, otherwise they would have had to take the way over the moat where anyone could have seen them from the windows of the palace. Charles led the way and they slipped into the laundry house through the back-door which he and Jane knew had a loose latch. Inside it was dark, and it smelled of soap and wet, mouldy air even though it had been a week since the last laundry day. Without people in it the bare and empty laundry house with it's soap stains on the floor and the big wooden vats and washing boards standing around, looked like a place long abandoned. Perfect for a what they were here for.  
Henry stopped and looked around and Charles realized he had never been inside here. He seemed to be a little put off by the surroundings, careful not to brush his velvet clothes on the dirty walls.  
"Come on, it's not like that upstairs."  
He pulled the increasingly reluctant looking prince up the creaking stairs, not bothering to be especially quiet now because it didn't matter that much any more. There was a giant room for drying clothes up on the first floor, clotheslines stretching from one end to the other in case it was raining outside, but they crossed the room quickly and went up even more stairs to the last floor, right under the roof. Dust danced there in the pale light that fell in from the slanted windows and illuminated a number of small storerooms. Some of them had pallets to sleep on for those hired hands who could not make it back home at the end of a laundry day or who stayed for more than one day.  
"Here?" Henry asked reluctantly, shooting a questioning look at him, quite obviously not thrilled with his surroundings.  
Charles rolled his eyes. "Do you want to meet her or not? You can't very well do so anywhere else, unless you fancy a meeting behind a tapestry."  
Henry was about to reply something, when a sudden creaking sound made them both flinch. They whirled around, thinking someone had discovered them and saw a door opening slightly and someone cautiously looked out. Charles smiled in relief, because it was Jane. Her face lit up too at the sight of them and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes and she gestured them closer.  
Henry suddenly hesitated, and Charles found himself virtually pushing a very uncharacteristically shy Henry towards her.  
"Uhh, hello," he said to her, like some bumbling idiot.  
"Hello, Your Grace," she replied, looking him up and down and then she leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. She had learned quickly that that was quite a normal greeting here in England even between strangers. Charles could see that she had done it to tease him however and Henry blushed furiously, his mouth opened slightly and he stared at her as if she was a unicorn stepped out of a glade to rest it's head in his virginal lap.  
Charles almost snickered out loud at that thought then she went to her toes to kiss him too and he was distracted by the familiar pleasant scent of lavender on her, something he already associated with their secret trysts. Immediately he felt his loins stir just like this morning. He was used to this part of his body doing whatever it liked no matter where he was or what he was doing, but he didn't want Henry to see, so he announced hastily "Umm, I'll stand watch outside."  
His eyes met Henry's and for a second he saw a flash of panic there, that was virtually begging him not to leave him alone with Jane.  
"But-" Henry blurted helplessly, looking entirely awkward, then with a smirk Jane took his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door.  
Charles laughed quietly and stepped a little back from the door, willing his own excitement to abate. From inside the room he heard Jane's soft voice speaking soothingly, then Henry's deeper unsure voice and even though he could not make out words after a while he started feeling a little uncomfortable to listen to them... He thought about leaving, but his feet wouldn't move him farther than to the window.  
Down in the gardens he saw princess Mary and her attendants playing hide and seek. Their giggling drifted up to him and mingled with the voices from behind the door and he stood and watched for some time, tapping his fingers on the windowsill in boredom. After a while the voices behind the door stopped. It was completely quiet for a long moment then a sudden surprised male moan could be heard. Charles bit his lip to prevent a laugh, then realized they wouldn't hear him anyway and let it out. Jane really wasn't one to beat around the bush for long. She hadn't come here to talk. And they had to be quick in any case, before someone came to look for either of them.  
It was silent again after that and he wondered what they were doing now. Probably kissing. Had she just kissed him French style, like she had done with him the first time he had met her here or had Henry perhaps finally found some of his usual courage and initiated it? He couldn't know, but suddenly more and louder moans followed, both male and female and they were very hard not to hear.  
Charles's eyes glazed over at the familiar sound of Jane moaning, his mind immediately providing him with the accompanying picture. He saw her beautiful eyes flutter in pleasure and could almost taste her mouth and feel her soft curves under his hands as if he were the one inside there with her now. She had shown him some truly exciting things and just the thought of them was enough to keep him aroused. Damn, he wanted to be inside there with Jane now instead of Henry! Before he knew it his feet had carried him back to the door again in a desire to be closer and he pressed himself against the wooden frame, not really knowing what he was doing. Their sounds were much more audible this way and involuntarily he found himself straining to hear what was going on.  
He swallowed when he could actually hear the sound of them kissing and his own excitement rocketed even more. There was the rustling of clothes and shuffling and a heartbeat afterwards he very clearly heard Henry gasp "Oh dear almighty above!" and he knew exactly what had just happened.  
Despite his frustrated state he was amused by Henry's wondrous excitement. A little snicker that wanted to leave his throat was choked however when right after that an unmistakable rhythmic pounding suddenly rattled the wooden frame and Jane's oh so familiar wanton moans reached his ear again. He almost jumped, feeling somewhere between caught, aroused and embarrassed to be hearing this. But he couldn't force himself to go back to the window, instead he kept listened to it, his mind again providing him with the imagery. He knew them both intimately enough to know what they would be looking like right now and he closed his eyes, touching himself a little through his clothes. He just couldn't help it, he was 16, he always thought about this and he just couldn't resist the sounds from inside.  
It didn't take long however until he heard a finishing cry from Henry and that ripped him out of his own desire enough to quickly return to the window. He didn't want to be caught listening to them. Charles could only hear the furious rush of his own blood in his ears, feeling absolutely flushed with desire and desperately trying to will it away while he waited for them to come out, but it was utterly quiet inside afterwards for a long time. When he finally heard a click he turned to see the door opening to reveal Henry, breathing heavily, a stunned look on his face.  
Charles wondered if he had looked that stupid after his own first time.  
The sight made him grin and he winked at him. Henry slowly smiled back, a little abashed and self-conscious but obviously happy and proud. Crossing the small room, Charles said "There's a lace loose on your shirt." for lack of anything else to say.  
Henry looked down at himself and started nestling his laces back into place.  
"We should probably leave separately," Charles told him. "After all I told the king you went alone."  
"Hmm?" Henry looked up at him, a dreamy expression on his face. "Oh yes." His natural self-confidence seemed to have returned to him by now and he good-naturedly patted Charles's cheek, then left, a grin plastered on his face, that was entirely out of place for his pretence of having gone for a walk in the gardens because of a headache.  
Charles for his part still had a bit of a problem in his pants. He looked inside the little room and his gaze met Jane's. She was leaning against the wall, her dress in disarray and he could clearly see that Henry had left her unsatisfied, her pupils were still blown dark with lust and her mouth was half open, a little frustrated frown on her face. She looked exactly how he felt and she knew it too as her eyes drifted down his body and saw the bulge there he didn't bother to hide from her.  
"Have you been listening to us, you naughty boy?" she said with a smirk, crooking a finger at him. He didn't need any more invitation than that and without thinking he went over to her. She gave a breathy little moan, as he slowly lifted her dress up her hot leg, looking into his eyes hungrily and then he delightedly watched her gaze becoming clouded with pleasure as he boldly began fingering her secret parts. Sometimes he still couldn't believe she let him do all this. Besides her Charles had been with a number of laundry girls. Almost every time they came to help with the laundry he seized the opportunity, and he always felt an arrogant sort of pride that they let him do this for nothing, when he knew the kitchen boys had to pay for their favours with stolen meat and cheese from the larder. But none of them could compare to Jane. She was different and special to him, a cultured, refined lady who smelled of lavender and knew things none of the laundry girls would ever even dream of, and he had only been with her two times previously. Yesterday when he had offered her up to Henry without a second thought, he had actually surprised himself a little.  
"Do you like that?", he asked, as he touched her teasingly.  
"Mhmm…," she moaned in answer and Charles smiled self-satisfied and leaned in to nibble at her ear.  
"Good," he whispered.  
Still he couldn't help his next question.  
"I know you like me," he breathed, drawing back to look at her, "but who is better… me or the prince?"  
Jane opened her eyes, a knowing gleam flashing in them and teasingly pretended to contemplate the question.  
"I don't know…" she said, hesitating playfully. "I think I need to compare some more before I can tell." Carding a hand through his hair and pulling at his doublet and shirt impatiently Jane pulled him in for a hungry kiss and Charles couldn't wait any longer either and hastily pulled off his hose. She moved to accommodate him and they both gasped as he joined their bodies right there standing up against the wall. There was no resistance, she was hot and slick and ready for him and the sudden realization hit Charles that that was because Henry had been there before him. For a short moment he felt conscious and weird to be where Henry had been just a little earlier, but the sensations were just too good to worry about it. He pushed the thought firmly to the back of his mind and then he pulled her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips and they fell into a quick rhythm, that made him forget about anything else. She writhed and moaned underneath him and he did everything she had taught him to make her climax before him, eagerly watching her reactions to his touches and strokes.  
When it was over they were leaning against each other, breathing heavily, thoroughly satisfied. Charles raised his hand to idly play with her white full breast, while she played with a curl of his hair and they shared the last warm glow of their coupling for a while without speaking. The sight of his hand on her breast suddenly made the thought of Henry's hand there flash in his mind and he couldn't resist asking again.  
"So, who was better?" He might have shared her with Henry but that didn't mean he didn't want her to like him better. She stopped playing with his hair and laughed amusedly. Instead of answering him she murmured "I have to go now" into his ear and suddenly withdrew from him. Speechless he watched her brush down her dress and make sure her hair looked alright, then open the door to leave. He opened his mouth to stop her, but she laughed and skipped back again to kiss him on the lips.  
"Don't worry, you are still my favourite. Princes aren't all they are made out to be after all."  
And with that she left, leaving him alone and feeling very smug indeed.

* * *

Henry had a hard time concentrating. The Earl of Surrey's voice echoed loudly in the big hall, yet it kept drifting to the back of his mind every other second and he had only the faintest of ideas what the Earl had even talked about when he finally stopped speaking and sat down in his booth again to make room for some other old man's boring parliament speech. Westminster Hall, the drafty old thing was as chilly and miserable as always, since his father saw no reason to rebuilt it, but for once Henry wasn't bothered by the cold at all.  
His thoughts kept him very hot.  
He couldn't stop fantasizing about what had happened with Jane yesterday. Her hair, her lips, her teasing words, the feel of her warm body... all the extraodinary sensations were with him constantly. Not even in the barge on the way here with his father had he been able to stop thinking about her and more than once he had thought the king must surely notice how awkwardly he sat on his cushion and how red his face was... He chanced a sideways look at his father now, who was presiding over parliament on his throne, watching every single person in the hall like a hawk, deciding which mouse to swoop down on next and he felt a triumphant gloating rising up in him.  
It was unbelievable that he had been kept away from knowing women for so long. Arthur had been fifteen when he had bedded Catherine and he was a year older already! It was just so unfair. Why did he have to suffer just because father was convinced Arthur had died from bedding a woman at too young an age? How could anyone possibly die because of lying with a woman, that was simply ridiculous! If anything, being with Jane had made him feel more alive than ever.  
So much so that he desperately wanted to see her again. And soon. Charles would have to arrange another meeting with Jane for him. But first he'd have to let him ride his stallion. A promise was a promise after all and the more so because it was the promise of a prince. He wasn't too enthusiastic about keeping that one though. He felt so intensely possessive of his stallion, that he knew already it would cost him some effort to let someone else ride him. Ah, but the experience with Jane had truly been worth it and he was looking forward to repeat it.  
He shifted in his seat and suppressed a sigh. Would this parliament session never end?

* * *

"Damn, what a horse! I wish _my_ father would give me presents like that."  
Charles and Anthony were standing in front of a box inside the royal stables looking at Henry's birthday horse. They had meant to get their own horses to go for a ride, but had stopped at Master Nameless's box to admire him. The stable boys jokingly called the stallion that behind Henry's back, because Henry refused to name him until he had ridden him in a joust.  
Looking at the horse now and with yesterday's successful happenings, Charles suddenly couldn't contain his glee.  
"Henry promised me he would let me ride him," he told Anthony smugly.  
Anthony snorted. "Yeah, sure! In your dreams maybe!" he laughed. "Come on. Let's get our own horses, our free day isn't going to last forever."  
They had just come back from the palace's docks at the Thames where Henry and the king had left by barge for Westminster to attend parliament and they now had the whole day to themselves. Anthony was determined to enjoy it to the fullest by going for a ride first and then having fun in town, but Charles stopped him.  
"I'm not joking, he really did," he said, waiting for Anthony to envy him and ask questions how he had managed to get Henry to agree. Not that he'd tell the truth about that, but Anthony disappointed him.  
"You expect me to believe that? No way!" he laughed, his eyes flicking disbelievingly between Charles and the stallion.  
"Yes." Charles said, smirking.  
"Pff! That horse will die of old age before Henry let's anyone ride it," Anthony scoffed, crossing his arms. "I don't believe you, you are just making this up."  
"No, I'm not." Charles grew a little angry.  
Anthony raised his eyebrows at him. "Tell your grandmother that, Charles."  
"Fine!" Charles snapped, "I'll prove it to you!"  
Henry had told him, he could ride the horse when he was back from Westminster tomorrow... But what would one day earlier matter?  
"Saddle him." he told one of the stable-boys, who was just passing them. The boy looked at him with uncertainty. "But... that is my lord prince's horse, sir."  
"He allowed me to ride it." Charles shot back, his jaw clenched. Anthony looked at him in disbelief and the boy looked very reluctant and sceptical too so Charles rolled his eyes and added impatiently. "Go and ask my uncle if you don't believe me!"  
Since his uncle was Master of the Horse to the king and therefore in charge of the royal stables, Charles carried some sort of unofficial authority here, because naturally no one wanted to piss of the boss's nephew. His uncle had no idea yet of course but 'Go ask my uncle' always worked and so the boy eventually started saddling Henry's horse, albeit hesitatingly.  
Charles looked at Anthony in triumph. "See?"  
Anthony's sceptic expression slowly turned into a wry, cynical smile. "Well, of course. There's nothing he will deny you for long, is there?" he said resignedly. "Or you are even stupider than I thought."  
A short time later they were galloping out of the palace's gates into the extensive deer park beyond, racing each other. A few of the other boys from Henry's household and even some of the stable-boys had followed them, when they had seen what was happening: Everyone wanted to see the horse in action. Charles hadn't intended to make this a public affair but he didn't much care either, so he whooped excitedly as his stallion easily outdistanced all of them, the horse's powerful body moving underneath him and the wind in his hair and feeling incredibly triumphant.  
"Try making him turn on the spot, Charles!" Anthony cried and the others joined in, encouraging him. They spent the next hour or so watching Charles doing feats of horsemanship on the stallion, coming up with ever new things he should try and when that got boring they went to hunt some rabbits. One or two of them had brought their dogs along and they actually caught some hares in their unplanned little hunting trip. They had fun and enjoyed themselves in that manner until they got hungry around midday.  
"Let's ride back and have something to eat," Anthony said. His cheeks were flushed and he was hungrily eyeing the rabbits slung over someone else's saddle. "I could eat a horse! And I want to spent the afternoon in the pub with lots of ale!" Everyone laughed, because ale involved bar wenches and music too.  
"Al right! Let's ride back to the palace," Charles said, his high spirits fading a bit. He was a little regretful that his one ride with Henry's stallion was over already and decided he'd ask him if he could have him again. After all, now that Henry had had a taste of women, he'd want one again. And who was better suited to get him one than Charles?  
The last few miles away from the palace, he cried. "Hey, who wants to try and race me again?". The others indulged him and spurred on their horses, laughing and whooping even though they knew it was hopeless to try and catch up with Henry's stallion. The horses hooves pounded the grass ever faster in their race.  
Later Charles couldn't remember exactly how it had happened. But one moment he was galloping ahead, shouting for joy and the next he found himself violently propelled through the air, then hitting the ground hard and tumbling through the grass. For a moment he just lay as he had fallen, too shocked to move, afraid he had broken something. His head hurt and his ears were ringing. All his limbs felt numb, as if they weren't actually part of him. A hand gripped him by the shoulder and pulled him up and the feeling in his limbs suddenly came back. "Charles, are you alight?" Anthony was looking at him with worry. Slowly, with his help, Charles got up, finding all his bones sore yet still whole. Then the horse's panicked whinnying reached his ear. Anthony beside him was quiet and pale. Charles turned. The stallion had not been as lucky as he had been.  
He'd stepped into a rabbit's burrow.

* * *

A horse with a broken leg was a dead horse. They all knew that. It would have to be killed. But no one dared get near the panicked, wounded horse. They stood and watched in doomed silence as the big strapping animal tried to get up again and again on it's broken leg, it's eyes full of white, it's coat covered in sweat. It would not give up until finally someone ran and fetched Charles's uncle, the king's Master of the Horse, who made a quick end to the horrible display, when he arrived. He put the barrel of his gun between the stallion's eyes and shot him. The sound of the gun rang loud and final, as the body collapsed and blood began to run into the green grass, the smell of gunpowder permeating the air. Everyone's eyes turned to Charles.  
"You are in so much shit, Charles!" Anthony whispered.

* * *

to be continued

**A/N**: As always feedback is very much appreciated. Tell me if you liked it! (Or even if you didn't lol)


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